


Cool Kids Speak Klingon

by ChuckleVoodoos



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dorks in Love, M/M, Pining, Romantic Comedy, While You Were Sleeping AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 20:05:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4032865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChuckleVoodoos/pseuds/ChuckleVoodoos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Foggy gets engaged to a wonderful woman, and then proceeds to fall madly in love with her brother.</p><p>Both of these things happen while the wonderful woman is in a coma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cool Kids Speak Klingon

Foggy knew that Marci Stahl was his soulmate, since the moment he met her. Everything about her was perfect and lovely, and her laugh sounded like silver bells. She was a goddess on earth. He always knew that one day, he was going to ask her to marry him.

 

He just didn’t Marci would be in a coma when he asked.

 

“What do you mean, she’s not your fiancée?” Claire hisses at him, yanking him into Marci’s room and shutting the door. “You told me you were going to marry her!”

 

“No.” Foggy corrects her quickly. “I told the _cosmos_ that I was going to marry her. You were just eavesdropping.” He groans, remembering his dazed words when they were pulling Marci away on a stretcher. ‘ _Wake up soon, Marci. I can’t marry you until you wake up’_. “I didn’t even know her _name_ until an hour ago. And now it’s all over the hospital, and everyone’s going to know what a loser I am when they find out the truth.”

 

“You’re not a loser.” Claire soothes, even though she’s only known him for an hour. “You’re a nice guy. You just—you’re a little dramatic.”

 

“I am not dramatic!” Foggy cries dramatically. “I emote in an engaging way. Big difference.”

 

“Sure.” Claire says, a little exasperated but amused. “Don’t worry. The gossip will die down before you know it. It’ll be old news in an hour.”

 

“Not if I keep visiting her!” Foggy points out. “They’ll remember my face.”

 

“So don’t visit her.” Claire tells him bluntly. “You said you’d never even talked to her before—you don’t have an obligation.”

 

“I don’t need to talk to her.” Foggy informs her haughtily. “I already know she’s perfect.” He gets a wonderful idea. “No, wait, I _do_ need to talk to her. I’ll talk to her while she’s in the coma, and she’ll subconsciously fall in love with me! Then when she wakes up, she’ll say yes to marrying me and I won’t have to come clean to the judgmental nurses.”

 

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.” Claire says dryly. “But if you want to give it a try, go ahead. She might appreciate the company.”

 

“And you won’t tell anyone, right?” Foggy checks cautiously, and Claire nods immediately, smiling at him.

 

“Your secret’s safe with me.” She promises, and Foggy grins.

 

“You are a beautiful person, and you get a front row seat at our wedding.” Foggy vows, and Claire laughs.

 

“Dramatic.” She repeats, teasing. Her pager beeps, and she frowns, pulling it out and reading the message. “I’ve got to go, there’s a problem down the hall. Nothing big.” She assures Foggy when he makes an alarmed noise. “Just a little hiccup. Will you be okay on your own?” She nods towards Marci’s bed, and Foggy nods immediately.

 

“Totally. I’ll just start working my charm.” He says cheerfully. “Marci will be in love with me in no time.”

 

Claire makes a vague noise of agreement and goes on her way. Foggy waves until she’s out of sight, then turns back to Marci and makes his way over to sit in the incredibly uncomfortable chair next to her bed.

 

Marci makes a coma look good, Foggy thinks. Her hair is still perfect, somehow, shiny and with the perfect amount of bounce. Marci doesn’t need any makeup to be beautiful, so her bare face looks serene and lovely. She looks a bit like an actress in a television series that’s pretending to be in a coma, but actually spent a good hour in her dressing room getting gussied up.

 

Is it any wonder Foggy’s in love with this woman? She’s an angel.

 

Foggy reaches out to take her soft, perfectly manicured hand.

 

“I hope you wake up soon, Marci.” She tells her earnestly. “But, I mean, that shouldn’t take long, right? Destiny. Soulmates.” He nods sagely. “I don’t know if you know I’m here right now, but it can’t hurt to hear a friendly voice, right? Especially a friendly voice that’s in love with you.” He pauses, considers. “I guess I should tell you a little about me, huh? We didn’t have much time to get to know each other, before. That's not good. People should really get to know each other a little better before they get engaged." They should also probably know each other's name and hold at least one conversation together beforehand. "I mean, I never thought that I'd get engaged at all, especially not so fast. It all...it all happened so fast.” He thinks about the accident, and he shivers. Poor Marci.

 

Marci says nothing.

 

“Uh, let’s see. I like dogs, even though I can’t have pets in my apartment. That’s my least favorite part of living there. Um, I like chocolate more than vanilla, but they’re both awesome. I’m allergic to strawberries, so that’s not as awesome as far as flavors go. I know more Klingon than Spanish, which did _not_ help me pick up girls in college.” He considers. “I’m ambidextrous, which is pretty cool, but I have horrible hand-eye coordination. I can’t really think of anything else. I’m pretty boring.”

 

“Oh, I highly doubt that.” A voice drawls, and Foggy jumps about a foot in the air and whirls around. There’s a man leaning against the doorway, smirking. “TlhIngan Hol Dajatlh'a'?”

 

_Do you speak Klingon?_

 

“HIja'. loQ vIjatlhlaH!” Foggy exclaims, thrilled. It’s been forever since he met someone who speaks the language. “QaqIHneS.”

 

“Pleased to meet you too.” The man says, and his smirk has softened to a much warmer smile. “I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch your name though.”

 

“Oh. Foggy. Foggy Nelson.” Foggy isn’t sure if he should stand to shake the man’s hand or not. He doesn’t want to let go of Marci, so he just waves happily at the stranger.

 

“Matt.” The man says, and he appears to be more observant of social niceties because he walks forward towards Foggy. “Matt Murdock.”

 

 _Blind,_ Foggy notes absently, noting the cane and the dark glasses hiding the man’s eyes. He thinks he should probably feel bad about making a blind man cross the room to shake his hand, but Foggy’s not the kind of person who thinks all people with handicaps need to be treated like glass.

 

“Matt.” Foggy repeats dutifully, and takes the man’s offered hand. It’s warm, a little calloused but in a way that just speaks of hard work. Dry too, not nervous at all. Foggy hates his own sweaty, cold hands, but Matt doesn’t seem to mind.

 

“From your little speech, I think you sound quite interesting.” Matt compliments him, and he seems genuine. Foggy puffs up a little with pride. He can already tell that Matt was one of the _cool kids_ when he was younger _,_ even though he speaks Klingon, and cool kids rarely thought that Foggy sounded _interesting._ “And I’m sure Marci would agree, since she decided to marry you.”

 

Ah.

 

Foggy winces. Word _does_ travel fast around here.

 

“Um, yeah.” Foggy hedges. “I don’t know how that happened, honestly.” He laughs a little nervously. It’s not a lie. He has no _idea_ how this happened. “So, you’re here to visit Marci too?”

 

He doesn’t dare ask who the man is, because he obviously knows Marci and it will look suspicious if Foggy has no idea who her friends are. How often does this guy talk to Marci? Has he already figured it out? Does he know?

 

“I figured I might as well pretend to be a good brother.” Matt agrees wryly, and settles on the chair across from Foggy, on the other side of Marci’s bed. Brother. God damn it, he totally knows. There’s no way Marci wouldn’t have mentioned her _brother._ “I’m afraid we haven’t talked in a very long time. Too busy.” He explains.

 

Oh. This could work.

 

“That’s a shame. I’m sure Marci misses you.” Foggy sympathizes, trying not to sound too eager. Matt snorts.

 

“I doubt it. We can’t be in a room together for more than a minute without being at each other’s throats.” He tells Foggy bluntly. “This is probably the longest we’ve ever gone without fighting.” He nods towards Marci.

 

“Oh.” Foggy says inanely, not sure how to even go about handling that statement. “Well, I’m sure she cares about you anyway.” Marci must care about Matt. That’s what sisters do, right? And Matt seems like a good guy.

 

Foggy wonders why Matt and Marci don’t get along. They both seem so nice.

 

“I’m sure.” Matt echoes, sounding amused. “If I’d known Marci was getting married, I’d have tried to get in touch. I’m a little surprised she didn’t call me to gloat.”

 

“Well, you know.” No, Matt doesn’t know, because there’s nothing _to_ know. “We were keeping it quiet. No need to show off.”

 

“ _Really?”_ Matt says, and now he sounds _very_ amused. “Marci, not showing off? Hell would freeze over first.”

 

“I can see why you guys can’t be in a room together.” Foggy tells him wryly, and Matt laughs. It’s a clear, bright sound, and Foggy finds it entirely charming. Matt is definitely a good guy, to have a laugh like that.

 

“Yeah.” He agrees, not sounding sheepish at all. “But I’m glad I got to meet you eventually, even if it’s under such unfortunate circumstances.” Foggy nods, looking back towards Marci.

 

“Marci’s a fighter though. Tough as nails.” Foggy knows that much without even having talked to her. “And the doctors say she’s doing really well. Pretty much guaranteed she’ll be okay. It’s just a matter of time.”

 

“How wonderful.” Matt says warmly, smiling. “I heard people talking about the accident on the way in, but I’m afraid I didn’t get the details. From what everyone’s saying though, you’re quite the hero.”

 

Foggy blushes, shaking his head.

 

“No, no. It wasn’t anything like that. It was just luck.” Matt hums thoughtfully.

 

“What _did_ happen, exactly?” He asks, curious. Foggy takes a moment to gather his thoughts, wondering how he can edit this without lying.

 

“Marci was talking on the phone—actually, I think she was firing someone. It wasn’t pretty.” He’d admired how fierce she was when she passed him by, but had also been a little terrified. Marci is clearly not someone you want to piss off. “She was distracted, and she ended up stepping out a little too soon to cross the street. There was a car coming…”

 

“Yes, this part I heard.” Matt offers softly. “You pushed her out of the way, right? Saved her life.”

 

“You make it sound like I’m a superhero.” Foggy says, both amused and a little uncomfortable. “I just acted without thinking, and obviously I didn’t do a great job. She bumped her head when I pushed her, and now… this.” He waves towards the hospital as a whole, and Matt tuts, shaking his head.

 

“You saved her life.” He repeats gently. “Thank you for that. I’m glad she met you—oh, how _did_ she meet you, incidentally?” His voice is casual, but there’s a little hint of something that sounds a little like suspicion. Uh-oh.

 

“Same place, actually.” Foggy tells him honestly. “I saw her crossing the street, and she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. I’ve been in love with her ever since.” True, technically.

 

“How sweet.” Matt says mildly, and yup, that is very much suspicion in his voice. “When was that?”

 

“Two months ago.” Foggy tells him quickly, happy to get an easy question. He remembers everything about that day—it was sunny and warm and Marci had looked absolutely beautiful.

 

He only realizes what a mistake it is when Matt raises his eyebrows, looking skeptical.

 

“That’s quite a fast engagement.” He points out, and Foggy shrugs awkwardly.

 

“Well, yeah.” He agrees uncomfortably. “But, you know… true love.”

 

“Hmm.” Matt says, and he doesn’t sound convinced. “I suppose.”

 

“Yeah.” Foggy says again, self-conscious. “Uh, so, your last name. Murdock?” He asks, desperate to change the subject. Matt nods easily.

 

“Adopted.” He explains. “When I was fairly young, after my father passed. I kept his name. The Stahls have been very kind to me, even though it’s just me and Marci now.” He tilts his head. “Marci really never mentioned that?”

 

“Uh, maybe I forgot. Not about her parents, but—“ Foggy says lamely, trailing off. How much of a dick is he going to sound like if he says he forgot Matt existed? Better to leave it vague. “But I’d love to hear more, if you’d like to share. Get to know each other.” Matt smiles at him.

 

“That sounds wonderful.” He tells Foggy, and he really does sound like he means it even if he also still sounds suspicious. He leans forward, folds his hands in front of him on the bed. Foggy gets the bizarre feeling that he’s sitting across from a policeman in an interrogation room. “You first. Tell me _everything_.”

 

Foggy’s not sure if he should find that menacing or not.

 

He thinks probably yes.

 

* * *

 

“Here, happy birthday.” He pushes a pudding cup into Matt’s hand and settles in across from him. Matt takes it with a surprised sound.

 

“It’s not my birthday.” He points out, and Foggy grins at him.

 

“Fine, happy un-birthday.” Matt blinks at him. “Come on, Matt. I haven’t seen you eating in days.”

 

“I eat!” Matt protests. “I just eat when I go home.”

 

“And have a delicious home-cooked meal of air and misery?” Foggy asks archly. When Matt makes an offended sound, he sighs and adds, “You look really thin. I’ve only known you for a week, but I can already tell you’re one of those people who will work themselves to death if you let them.”

 

Matt frowns, turning the pudding cup over him in his hands.

 

“I… forget, sometimes. To eat.” He admits. “I mean, obviously I remember eventually, but… thank you.” Foggy beams and offers him the spoon. Matt takes it and peels back the lid to take a bite. “I didn’t think they had dark chocolate pudding at the cafeteria.”

 

Foggy clears his throat awkwardly.

 

“Well, no. They don’t. I brought this one from home.” He reaches into his messenger bag. “I got you a couple other things too. I wasn’t sure if you ate meat or not, so I have one turkey sandwich and one peanut butter—oh, god, you’re not allergic to peanuts, are you? Because it’s probably contaminated the whole bag by now—“

 

“Peanuts are fine.” Matt assures him, before hesitating. “You seriously packed me a lunch?”

 

“Juice box and everything.” He agrees. When Matt gives him a look that says very clearly that Matt thinks he’s crazy, Foggy explains. “They travel well, and they’re good for a pick-me-up. Plus, you know—Juicy Juice Fruit Punch. Pretty delicious, and no strawberries.”

 

“Uh-huh.” Matt says, and he still looks like he thinks Foggy’s crazy, but he also looks interested. “Okay, sure.” He takes the offered paper bag, running his fingers idly over the material. “Is this a _sticker?”_ He asks incredulously. Foggy nods wisely.

 

“Yup. It’s a smiley face.” Foggy informs him cheerfully. “Smiley avocado, actually. I have no idea where I got it, but I saw it at home and thought of you.” Matt stares at him.

 

“I remind you of an _avocado_?” He asks, sounding like he’s not quite sure if he should be offended or not. Foggy shrugs. “Why?” Foggy considers him for a moment, looking Matt up and down.

 

“I don’t know, exactly. You’re just—avocado. It’s not a bad thing.” He assures Matt quickly when Matt looks like he’s leaning towards offended. “Avocados are awesome. _Really_ yummy.” He winces.

 

Oh. Did that sound like he was flirting? He didn’t mean to make it sound like he was flirting. Of course, now that he thinks about it, Matt is sort of yummy. He’s got a great body—definitely works out—amazing cheekbones and a cute nose. More than that though, he’s got this great smile—Jesus, that smile. Sort of mischievous, just this side of a smirk, but also kind of sweet, like he’s laughing but not at you. It’s really—

 

 _Not_ flirting. It’s a nice smile, which Foggy appreciates, but Marci’s is much nicer.

 

“Well, I suppose I should take it as a compliment, then.” Matt says, and he’s giving Foggy that little laughing smile. “Thank you, I can’t remember the last time someone gave me a sticker. It’s not really the sort of thing—“ He gestures awkwardly towards his glasses. Foggy rolls his eyes.

 

“It’s a smiling _avocado,_ Matt. I’m pretty sure you can sense the awesomeness, even if you can’t see it.” Matt relaxes, smiling.

 

“It is pretty awesome.” He agrees, and shakes the bag a little. “Do you want the other sandwich? I think I’d prefer the turkey for the protein, but it seems a waste to not eat the other one.” Foggy snorts.

 

“’For the protein’. You’re a health nut.” He accuses, but it’s gentle. Besides, he can’t really complain about Matt’s eating habits if they help him get that body— _not_ flirting. “Sure, PB&J sounds great.” He hums happily when Matt hands him the extra sandwich and takes a bite. “I am a master chef.” He brags, and Matt laughs.

 

“Sure, Rachel Ray.” He teases. When he takes a bite though, “This actually _is_ really good.” He pauses, chewing thoughtfully. “I’m a little surprised you used white bread though. Marci only likes wheat. Organic wheat.”

 

“Uh.” Foggy says, a little nervous. “Well, I use wheat for her sandwiches. But I like white. Is that okay?” Matt smiles at him.

 

“I love white bread.” He reassures Foggy. “I haven’t let myself eat it in forever, because I know wheat’s better for me, but I think I can afford to indulge a little.”

 

“Oh, good.” Foggy exhales, relieved. “Because all I have at home is white bread.” Matt blinks at him.

 

“You’re going to keep making me lunch?” He asks, looking a little baffled. Foggy nods, grinning at him.

 

“I want to make sure you eat, and you said you forget.” He reminds Matt. “ _Someone_ needs to take care of you.”

 

Matt’s smile softens a little, and he runs a finger along the avocado sticker again, slow and thoughtful.

 

“If you bring lunch, I could get dinner.” He offers. “I hear the cafeteria is pretty good, for hospital food.”

 

This is good. This is a sign that Matt actually likes him, which will be incredibly useful since Foggy’s going to have him as a brother-in-law. Matt looks hesitant too, like he’s not sure Foggy will say yes. Which is ridiculous, because Foggy will never pass up free food, and he likes Matt too. Spending more time together sounds like a very good thing.

 

“Perfect.” He agrees cheerfully. Matt’s hesitant look fades, and he looks pleased, running a finger again over the avocado sticker.

 

“Yeah.” He says quietly. “Perfect.”

 

* * *

 

“Qaleghqa'mo' jIQuch, Matt.” Foggy greets. Matt glances up from where he’s reading a book next to Marci’s bed, fingers running quick and sure over the pages.

 

“Mm, nice to see you too.” He says warmly. “Long day at work?”

 

Foggy groans, rubbing a hand at his sore back and collapsing across from Matt.

 

“Awful.” He agrees. “My client is an idiot, and I do not use that word lightly. He thinks we’re on _Law and Order._ It’s ridiculous.” He sighs, smiling wearily at Matt. “But you got out early, huh? Court went well?”

 

Matt grins at him.

 

“Acquitted.” He says casually, and Foggy claps his hands, delighted.

 

“Wow, Matt, that’s amazing!” He praises earnestly. “I swear, if I’m ever arrested, you’re going to be my one phone call.” Matt smiles at him indulgently.

 

“I can’t imagine you committing a crime.” He says gently. “But I’d represent you in a heartbeat, even if you were guilty.”

 

“Aw, that’s so sweet.” Foggy coos. “Offering to cover up a crime for me. Chivalry _isn’t_ dead.”

 

“I try.” Matt says with exaggerated nobleness, but he’s still smiling. “If you wanted to celebrate, we could head to the cafeteria a little early, have dinner.”

 

“Hell yeah.” Foggy agrees instantly. “Victory Jell-O! Let’s go.” Matt’s already getting to his feet, so Foggy hurries over and squeezes Marci’s hand. “We’ll be back soon, okay?” He whispers, squeezing her hand once more before pulling away and turning towards Matt.

 

Matt is standing at the door, a strange look on his face.

 

“You’re very good with her.” He says quietly. “Very kind.”

 

“Oh, well.” Foggy scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Thank you.”

 

“Of course.” Matt says, but he still sounds a little odd. Foggy walks over and offers his arm for Matt to take. Matt doesn’t like using his stick if he can help it, and Foggy likes to offer himself instead. Matt’s always warm next to him, and he always smiles so happily when he takes Foggy’s arm.

 

“Come on, Matt. Victory Jell-O.” Foggy coaxes. Matt gives that happy, sweet smile and places his hand gently on Foggy’s elbow.

 

“You will have to eat dinner first, you know.” He chides gently. “Jell-O is not a meal.” Foggy scoffs.

 

“Says you. I need a sugar rush right now.”

 

Matt argues with him all the way down to the cafeteria, and Foggy eventually sighs and takes a ham sandwich in addition to his Jell-O. Matt beams at him, and Foggy decides it’s worth giving in, just this once.

 

“The chicken’s dry.” Matt mutters when they’re seated, disappointed, and Foggy rolls his eyes.

 

“The chicken’s always dry, you know that.” He sighs. Matt always orders the chicken anyway. Foggy pushes half of his sandwich towards Matt and snags Matt’s chips instead, like _he_ does every Friday. Matt hums happily and takes a bite of the offered sandwich.

 

“So, weekend plans?” Matt asks after he takes a sip of his iced tea. Foggy shrugs, ripping open the bag of chips.

 

“Not really. I’m boring, remember?” He teases, and Matt laughs.

 

“And I told you that I never believed it for a second. As soon as I met you, I knew you were remarkable.” Foggy blushes. Matt always says things like this, and it’s always in that easy tone like it’s just stating a fact of life, not giving a generous compliment. It sounds natural—Foggy’s interesting. Foggy’s remarkable. Foggy has no idea why Matt feels that way, but he’s not going to complain.

 

“You’re not so bad yourself.” He returns happily, crunching on a potato chip. “So, how about you? Plans?”

 

“Absolutely nothing.” Matt tells him cheerfully. “So, I was thinking. If you were interested, we could go get a real dinner tomorrow.” Foggy chuckles.

 

“What could be better than dry chicken and Jell-O, Matt?” He gasps theatrically, hand over his heart, and Matt grins at him. Foggy grins back. He can't help himself. When Matt grins at him, Foggy _needs_ to grin back. Otherwise all the fizzy joy of Matt smiling at him would bubble up inside of him and Foggy might explode from it all. “Yeah, sounds fun. Where would you want to go?”

 

He’s never actually gone out with Matt. They spend a great deal of time at the hospital together and eat lunch and dinner together, and Foggy would definitely call them friends now, very good friends. Matt’s a sweetheart, and he’s also fun and clever. He’s a blast to hang out with, and for some reason he seems to feel the same way about Foggy. Still, even as close as they are, in the whole month that they’ve known each other, Matt’s never asked to take him to dinner.

 

The thought of it makes Foggy a little giddy. He loves spending time with Matt.

 

“I’ve heard very good things about Giorgio.” Matt mentions offhandedly. Foggy blinks at him.

 

Giorgio is one of the most expensive restaurants in the city, high-end Italian with chandeliers and crystal glasses. There’s no way Foggy could afford to eat there more than once a year if he still wanted to have central heating. More than that though…

 

“You hate big restaurants like that.” He points out, remembering Matt mentioning it once or twice. “Too noisy. Besides, I can’t really see either of us fitting in there. We’re not that snobby.”

 

Matt doesn’t say anything for a moment, regarding him with a pensive curve to his mouth—not quite a smile, not quite a frown.

 

“It’s Marci’s favorite restaurant.” He tells Foggy quietly, and Foggy freezes. Damn, that was stupid, he should have known that. Matt told him about how much Marci likes the high-class stuff. Stupid mistake. Marci likes organic wheat bread and fancy restaurants that serve meals the size of a quarter, and Foggy should know that. Matt _knows_ that Foggy should know that. Stupid, stupid mistake. Foggy forces himself to relax, not panic.

 

“But not yours.” Foggy points out, certain of this fact at least. This he knows. He knows Matt.

 

Matt still looks thoughtful.

 

“No.” He agrees with deliberate slowness. “No, I don’t like it at all, actually. I’d rather go to Luigi’s.”

 

Foggy beams at him.

 

“No way, that’s my favorite!” He tells Matt, delighted. “They have the best pizza in Hell’s Kitchen, and no one knows about it. It’s like a secret club, you know?”

 

“Yeah.” Matt agrees quietly, regarding Foggy for another long moment before smiling slowly. “I thought you’d like that one better, if you had to choose between them.”

 

“Smart guy.” Foggy praises. “Luigi’s all the way. Just what I wanted. You are a man after my own heart.” Matt’s smile widens, quirking up just a little bit more on one side than the other in something almost like wryness. There's just the smallest flash of teeth, white and straight and entirely perfect.

 

“Oh, absolutely.”

 

* * *

 

It becomes a ritual, going to Luigi’s on Saturdays. Foggy looks forward to it the whole week.

 

“Fencing and karate.” Foggy says, amazed. “I kind of hate you a little. You must have been the coolest kid in your class.”

 

“Lots of kids did fencing or karate, Foggy.” Matt reminds him modestly, and Foggy snorts.

 

“Well, yeah. But I bet most of them didn’t have your smile.” Matt smiles at him brightly. “Yeah, there it is. Heartbreaker.” He accuses fondly. Matt shrugs lazily, smile smug.

 

“How about you? Any clubs—no, wait, don’t tell me. You were the kid in book club, weren’t you?” He sounds incredibly amused at the thought, and Foggy kicks him gently under the table.

 

“Okay, first of all? There is nothing wrong with book club, stop making it sound like a disease. Second, I was _not_ in book club. I was in…” He cuts himself off, wincing.

 

“No, come on.” Matt urges. “You have to tell me now.” Foggy says nothing. “It was the chess club, wasn’t it? Or, what? What’s the nerdiest club there is?”

 

“Go to hell.” Foggy tells him flatly, and then sighs. Matt’s not going to let it go until Foggy confesses. “I was in a cappella.” He admits sheepishly.

 

He’s expecting a gentle ribbing, maybe a teasing comment or two, but instead Matt gets very quiet. Foggy sees him blinking behind his glasses.

 

“A cappella.” He repeats slowly. “Of course you were—you have a such a nice voice. I love a cappella.” He muses quietly, almost to himself. “So you could sing very well, then?” Foggy nods, thinking proudly of his days in the group.

 

“Oh yeah.” He can’t help but gloat. “I had more solos than anyone else in the choir.” 

 

“Really?” Matt says, and he sounds fascinated. “Can you sing me something?” Foggy shakes his head immediately.

 

“No way, Matt. We’re in public! Do you have any idea how weird that would look?” He hisses, looking around Luigi’s to see if anyone’s listening. No one even looks up, just like the last two times they were here. People come to Luigi’s for the pizza, not the people. Matt chuckles.

 

“They won’t care. They’re all too busy talking to notice.” Foggy shakes his head again, and Matt bites his lip.  “Come on, please?”

 

Stupid lip-biting. Matt does it on purpose, Foggy can tell. He knows it makes him look pathetic and adorable, and he uses it ruthlessly to his advantage. Foggy’s a sucker for it.

 

“Fine. Brat.” He mutters. “Just… I’m probably really rusty, so don’t laugh, okay?” Matt nods solemnly. Foggy steels himself, trying to remember his breathing exercises and one of his better songs, and begins as quietly as he can without messing up the sound.

 

He’s not as bad as he’d thought he’d be. He hasn’t done this in earnest in years—pretty much the only singing’s he’s been doing recently has been in the shower, and that stuff’s hardly worthy of the Grammys. He hits all the notes and remembers all the words, so he counts it as a win.

 

“Beautiful.” Matt murmurs when Foggy’s done. It's hard to read the tone in his voice, exactly, but Foggy doesn't think Matt's lying.  "So beautiful." 

 

“Thank you.” Foggy says happily, taking a celebratory sip of his soda to help soothe his throat. He’d been singing longer than he realized, but Matt hadn’t told him to stop. He glances around, but Matt was right—no one’s even noticed. “How about you? Any musical leanings?”

 

“Couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.” Matt admits, unashamed. “I played drums for a while, though.” He uses his silverware to play a little rhythm on table. Foggy claps appreciatively, and Matt beams at him.

 

“Wow, fencing, karate _and_ drums.” Foggy teases. “You really like to hit things, don’t you?” Matt smiles at him, serene.

 

“Just a little.” He agrees mildly. “Marci was always the more artistically inclined one. Drama, mostly. She’s a _very_ good actress. Very convincing.” He says it with a peculiar amount of emphasis. “Maybe you’ve seen her playing one of her many parts?” Foggy frowns.

 

“No, I don’t think so.” He never even knew Marci liked theater. Actually, he never knew anything that Marci liked, other than firing people. Foggy wonders if she’ll want to go to performances when she wakes up. Foggy prefers movies himself, but he supposes he’ll have to adjust. “Does she still act?”

 

“Oh, all the time.” Matt says lightly. “I’m sure you’ll see it sooner or later.”

 

“Uh, okay.” Foggy mutters, because he’s not sure he wants to. He supposes he will if Marci and Matt want him to. “That’s something we have in common. I was in one play in high school—I played the tree in the corner that had no lines. I was a very handsome tree though.”

 

Matt laughs, delighted.

 

“I’m sure you _were_ a very handsome tree.” He agrees kindly. Then, he tilts his head and makes a curious sound. “You know, I think we would have been friends, in school.” Foggy nods cheerfully.

 

“Definitely. You would have played the very handsome rock standing next to me.” Foggy sighs dramatically. “We could have been stars, Matt!” Matt laughs again, grinning at him.

 

“I think I like this better.” He says, gesturing around them towards all the people and the pizza. Matt turns back towards Foggy, and he hesitates. He looks like he’s not quite sure he should say what he’s about to say. “Marci usually dated the leads.” He says finally, quiet. “She had pretty high standards.”

 

Foggy frowns at him, feeling just the slightest tug behind his ribs, the tentative beginnings of hurt feelings. Matt can't mean what it sounds like he means, right?

 

“Are you saying I wouldn’t have been up to her standards?” He asks, a little insulted. Matt shakes his head immediately, eyes wide.

 

“No, she would have loved you, I’m sure.” He soothes hurriedly, and then hesitates again. “You just… I don’t think you would have been her usual type.” Now Foggy is definitely insulted. Very insulted.

 

‘What does _that_ mean?” He asks, bristling. Matt looks down, playing with his fork absently.

 

“I don’t know.” He says carefully. “Marci just tends go for really confident guys.”

 

“I’m confident.” Foggy snaps, and Matt nods eagerly.

 

“No, you’re wonderful." He promises. "I should have said that she goes for _overconfident_ guys. A little aggressive. She kind of likes to break their spirits.” He shrugs. “She doesn’t really—she dated the quarterback, not the a cappella kid.” He explains a little helplessly.

 

Foggy grits his teeth.

 

“Well maybe she changed her mind.” He growls with contained irritation, and he sees Matt clench his fork in his hand.

 

“Maybe she didn’t.” He snaps back, surprisingly bitter. “You don’t seem the type to date the cheerleader either.” He adds a little accusingly. “You’d like—I don’t know, the shy one. The one who spoke Klingon.” Foggy snorts.

 

“I was the only one who spoke Klingon, Matt.” He informs Matt caustically. “And I wasn’t dating much of anyone in high school, because most people didn’t think speaking Klingon was sexy.”

 

“Exactly!” Matt says triumphantly. “Neither did Marci. You weren’t her type. You’re _still_ not her type. Come on, you must have noticed that.” Foggy keeps glaring at him for a second, furious, before he remembers that he has no _idea_ if he’s Marci’s type. He’d never gotten a chance to find out. And if what Matt’s saying is true, that she likes the quarterback…

 

Foggy sighs, defeated.

 

“You’re right. I don’t know why she looked twice at me.” She did. Foggy’s pretty sure Marci’s seen him at least three times when they were crossing the street. “She’s too good for me. I get that.” Matt makes an an alarmed sound, dropping his fork with a consternated clatter.

 

“No, that’s not what I meant at all!” He cries, looking greatly frustrated. “She’d be lucky to have you. I just meant that you didn’t seem… compatible. But maybe Marci’s tastes have finally improved.” He smiles weakly at Foggy. “I’m sure you’re great together.”

 

“I guess…” Foggy says, suddenly a little unsure. Marci _would_ like him, right? Even though he’s not the quarterback? They’re soulmates. And Matt’s right, Foggy never really went for the cheerleader, but if the cheerleader had been Marci he totally would have. He’s desperate to change the subject. “So, if you’re such a love guru, you must know what your type is. Spill.”

 

Matt freezes. He takes a long sip of his water, pretty obviously to buy time. Foggy’s curious now. Is Matt’s type really that embarrassing?

 

“Oh, I don’t know. Just, you know… smart, funny, kind.” He swallows. “Interesting. Remarkable.”

 

“That’s a tall order.” Foggy teases gently. It’s hard to stay mad at Matt when he looks so cute and sheepish. Matt smiles wanly.

 

“Yeah. All the good ones are taken.” He says quietly. He clears his throat. “So, do you want dessert?” He says it briskly and a little too brightly, obviously as eager as Foggy is to change the subject.

 

Foggy’s still a little shaken from the Marci revelation. He needs comfort food.

 

“Yeah. Double order of the zeppole, definitely.” He agrees, relieved. “You want anything?” Matt traces a finger along the rim of his glass, face unreadable.

 

"Lots of things." He murmurs quietly. "But I'll start with the zeppole." 

 

* * *

 

Foggy wakes up, horrified and hard.

 

He’s just had what was probably the best sex dream in his life.

 

It wasn’t about Marci.

 

“Jesus.” He whispers, sitting up and hiding his face in his hands. His skin is still hot and a little sweaty, because his dream had been very intense and he’d been _very_ active in it. “This is not happening.”

 

It had started in the restaurant. Matt had gotten a little bit of powdered sugar on his on his lower lip from the zeppole—that part happened in real life. Foggy leaning across the table and licking it off, sucking until every last taste of the sugar was gone—that had _not_ happened. Matt had _not_ gasped, and when Foggy had _not_ pulled away, Matt had _not_ wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled him back into a fierce kiss. Matt had _not_ grinned into the kiss, pulled away just long enough to call for the check in a hoarse voice, let Foggy lead him quickly from the restaurant.

 

Matt had _not_ followed Foggy into a taxi and gone back to Foggy’s apartment, or stopped in the middle of the hall to push Foggy against the wall like he just couldn’t wait long enough to get through the door. Matt had _not_ pushed Foggy into the bed and smirked, licked along Foggy’s chest as he unbuttoned his shirt. Matt had _not_ let Foggy do that same, sighed and pressed against him. Matt did _not_ moan and arch his hips when Foggy’s mouth moved lower.

 

Matt had _not_ smiled sweet and slow every time Foggy said his name, rushed a little with stretching him so that he could get inside just a bit more quickly. Foggy had _not_ whimpered at the slight ache of the sudden fullness, and Matt had _not_ soothed the pain away with whispered words and soft kisses. Matt had _not_  held Foggy close afterwards and murmured into his ear how perfect and lovely he was.

 

Matt had _not_ kissed Foggy goodnight, and he had _not_ kissed him good morning.

 

‘You’ve got a little sugar on your lip’, Foggy _had_ said. ‘Thanks’, Matt _had_ mumbled, wiped it off with his napkin, said goodnight at the door of the restaurant and let Foggy climb into a taxi alone.

 

“This cannot be happening.” Foggy whispers again, because it _didn’t_ happen, none of this happened, but Foggy _wanted_ it to.

 

Foggy is a horrible person.

 

He’s not _actually_ engaged to Marci, at least not yet. He’s in love with her though, totally and completely. Probably. Possibly. Maybe? And even if he _wasn’t,_ even if he wasn’t sure anymore, how would he tell that to Matt? He couldn’t say he lied about knowing Marci, about wanting to marry her. Matt would hate him.

 

No, it’s got to stop. This was just a fluke. Foggy hasn’t had sex in a long time, and Matt’s gorgeous. It’s natural to have a little subconscious attraction, Foggy can’t help that, but it’s not anything more than liking Matt’s amazing, breathtaking smile and personality in a totally platonic way and _really_ liking his appearance in a not-so-platonic way. The two are in no way connected.

 

It’ll be okay. He probably won’t even remember the dream in the morning. He rolls over, ignoring the fact that he’s still desperately hard, and forces himself back to sleep.

 

Foggy remembers the dream in the morning.

 

* * *

 

“I’m so sorry.” Foggy says earnestly. “I have no idea how I forgot.” He’d been too busy walking around in a daze all morning to pack Matt’s usual lunch, perpetually horrified about his dream. No, not dream—dreams. He’d had another one after he fell asleep again, and he’d needed to stand in a cold shower for a good half hour before he was calm enough to get ready for the day.

 

The second dream was even worse. It’s hard to pretend you’re feeling simple lust for a guy when you spend half of your sex dream telling him how much you love him.

 

Matt smiles at him, shaking his head.

 

“It’s no problem, really.” He soothes. “We can get lunch from the cafeteria. It won’t be nearly as good as the stuff you make, but it’ll be fine. I think they have rice pudding today.”

 

Creamy white rice pudding. Matt being a messy eater. Not a good combination.

 

“Or a cookie. We could get cookies. I’ve heard the pudding is kind of bland.” Claire’s told him that the rice pudding is a gift from God, but Matt doesn’t need to know that.

 

“Sure.” Matt agrees easily. “Anything you want. Should we head down now?” Foggy frowns, glancing at the clock.

 

“The nurse should be by in a minute to check on Marci. We should probably stay for that, ask if there’s any good news.”

 

“Right.” Matt agrees quickly. “Of course. Lunch after.” He smiles and takes Marci’s hand. “Marci is more important.”

 

Foggy nods, taking her other hand.

 

“Of course.”

 

They spend the next few minutes talking about anything that comes to mind. It’s easy. Talking to Matt is always easy, natural. Foggy’s laughing and not thinking at all of rice pudding when he hears a cheerful voice say from the doorway,

 

“Foggy! I was hoping you’d be here.” Claire exclaims, and Foggy blinks up at her.

 

“Claire! I thought you were working on the other side of the hall!” Foggy says, thrilled to see her. Claire smiles.

 

“I asked to switch. I thought it would be nice to see you more often.” She shrugs. “Plus I thought I should save you from Helga.”

 

Helga is the absolutely terrifying nurse who’s been assigned to Marci. Foggy is honestly afraid she’s going to snap his neck one of these days for asking too many questions. He’s never seen her smile.

 

“You are a amazing person and I love you.” Foggy tells her sincerely, standing and giving her a tight hug. He hears Matt make a curious noise from behind him, and turns towards him. “Oh, Claire, this is Matt. He is also an amazing person, so you two should get along great.”

 

“Yes, I’ve heard about you.” Claire tells Matt, sounding amused. “I’m pretty sure half of the doctors here are in love with you.”

 

“Oh.” Matt says, looking a little startled. “Well, that’s… nice?” He smiles at her politely. “Foggy’s talked about you a lot, but I’m glad I finally got the chance to meet you in person. How do you and Foggy know each other? He never said.” Claire glances at Foggy for a moment, a little panicked, but Foggy nods his head minutely and she says casually,

 

“I was the nurse who was here when Marci got admitted.” She says with appropriate amount of both solemnity and friendliness. “Foggy was worried sick, so I had to calm him down. I’ve been doing it ever since.” She smiles at Matt. “So, are you a friend of Marci’s too?”

 

“Brother.” Matt says mildly, and Claire freezes again.

 

 _Brother?_ She mouths to Foggy silently, looking incredulous, and he shrugs helplessly. Claire’s face says she clearly has no idea how Foggy’s managed to pull this off. Foggy feels the same way, most of the time.

 

“Hey, that’s great.” Claire says, a little too enthusiastically to cover her shock. Then she pauses, eyes widening. “Wait. You're  _Matt?_ Foggy's Matt?” Matt nods agreeably. “I didn’t know you were Marci’s brother. Oh my god, you’re a legend. Foggy never shuts up about you.”

 

Foggy shakes his head, glaring at her. Matt looks pleased though, not creeped out at all.

 

“He does?” Matt asks, sounding delighted. Claire grins at Foggy.

 

“Oh yeah. He’s practically in love with you.” She adds cheerfully. Then she sees Foggy’s face, and the grin disappears, her face paling. She shakes her head urgently, looking disbelieving and terrified. Foggy swallows and looks away.

 

“I’m pretty fond of him too.” Matt says warmly, completely oblivious to the exchange. “Which is lucky, considering how much time we spend together.”

 

He smiles affectionately at Foggy, bright enough that Foggy swallows at the loveliness of it. _Jesus, that smile,_ he remembers thinking just after meeting Matt. He realizes now that he’d been in too deep, even then. As soon as he saw that smile.

Claire nods stiffly.

 

“Right.” She says deliberately, still staring at Foggy. “Visiting his _fiancée.”_

 

“Mm.” Matt agrees vaguely, a little lukewarm. Foggy stares at him, stomach dropping. Does Matt _still_ not think he’s good enough for Marci? Matt just said he was fond of him—shouldn’t that transfer over into approval for dating? “Yes. Fiancée.”

 

Claire blinks, seeming surprised. What, does she not think Foggy’s good enough for Marci either? How would she know? She’s never even talked to Marci.

 

Neither has Foggy.

 

Claire gaze travels slowly from Matt to Foggy, then back again.

 

 _“Oh.”_ She says, with the voice of someone who has just figured out a difficult problem. “Right. That’s… interesting.” She sounds a little dazed, but not unhappy. “So, I’m just going to check Marci’s vitals, and then I’ll leave you two alone.”

 

“Hey, no. We don’t mind the company, do we Matt?” Matt shakes his head, smiling serenely.

 

“Not at all.” Claire shakes her head, smiling apologetically.

 

“I really need to get to my other patients. I’m already a little behind schedule, staying to talk this long.” She hurries forward, and Foggy trails after her, watching curiously. Claire’s brisk but gentle in her approach, and Foggy can tell even without any special knowledge that she’s a very good nurse. Good. Marci deserves the best.

 

“Hmm, sounds good.” Claire says thoughtfully, poking around. A moment later, she gasps and startles back.

 

“What?” Foggy asks, alarmed. Claire turns to face him, and she looks both happy and a little worried.

 

“She’s waking up.”

 

* * *

 

The doctors say that it might take a while for Marci to become fully conscious, hours or maybe days.

 

Marci wakes up a minute later just to spite them.

 

“Crawled out from under your rock, huh?” Marci asks Matt, voice a little husky but still amused. Matt shrugs, smiling at her widely.

 

"Every day, just so I could laugh about how loud you snore.” Marci scoffs, a cute little sound, and returns the hug fiercely when Matt leans down.

 

“Just as charming as ever.” She says, sarcastic but affectionate. Just looking at them, Foggy can tell that they love each other, no matter what Matt’s said about them not getting along. You can love something without liking them—it’s sort of a requirement with family. Marci glances down, grimacing. “Ugh, these gowns are awful.”

 

“I'm sure you make it look lovely.” Matt assures her, and he smiles tenderly. “I’m glad you’re awake to complain about them.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get mushy.” Marci grumbles. Matt snorts.

 

“Just as charming as ever.” He returns easily, borrowing Marci’s words. Foggy shifts, not quite sure if he should run while he has the chance. Unfortunately, the move alerts Matt, and he turns to smile at Foggy.

 

“Hey, Foggy’s here too.” He says, gesturing for Foggy to come closer. Foggy can’t think of a viable excuse for saying no, so he sighs and shuffles closer. He feels a bit like he’s walking to the gallows.

 

This is going to _hurt._

 

“Foggy.” Marci repeats slowly, frowning as she catches sight of him. “Foggy, my…” She trails off curiously, cocking her head slightly to the side. Foggy is a little stunned she hasn’t already called for security for the weird guy in her room. He winces.

 

“Fiancé.” He mumbles, ashamed. Marci's eyebrow arches delicately, lips pursing. She glances from Foggy to Matt, who is still smiling obliviously at Foggy. It’s an amazing smile, the kind that Matt gives him every day, and it still makes Foggy's breath catch—wide and goofy, incredibly tender. It makes his whole face light up and glow with happiness. Marci blinks once, gaze calculating. Then she looks back at Foggy and smirks.

 

“Right.” She drawls. “ _Foggy Bear_.” She says, like she has any idea who he is. Yikes, _Foggy Bear._ Foggy winces. Marci beckons him closer, still smirking. “I see you two have met. How wonderful.” Matt was right—Marci is a _very_ good actress. She sounds genuinely thrilled at the prospect.

 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were engaged.” Matt scolds, and Marci hums noncommittally.

 

“Oops. Must have slipped my mind. I’m sure I would have sent you a wedding invitation, eventually.”

 

“ _Foggy_ slipped your mind?” Matt asks, and he sounds a little incredulous. “But he’s—he’s _Foggy.”_ Marci’s eyes narrow a little.

 

“Protective.” She muses, playful. “I suppose you approve of him, then?” Matt hesitates, and Foggy has a horrible moment where he thinks Matt’s going to tell Marci what he told Foggy at Luigi’s. _He’s not your type. You have nothing in common. He’s not good enough for you._

“Very much.” Matt replies calmly, and he sounds honest. “He’s a good choice.”

 

“Now that _is_ a surprise.” Marci says, grin sharp. “You’ve never approved of anyone I brought home.” Matt snorts.

 

“That’s because everyone you brought home was an asshole with an inflated ego.” He returns bluntly. “Foggy’s fantastic.” He smiles fondly at Foggy when he says it, and Foggy blushes. Matt thinks he’s fantastic, at least for the moment. As soon as Marci decides to stop playing coy and spills the beans, Matt will hate him, but right now Matt thinks he’s _fantastic_ and Foggy’s going to savor it while he can.

 

He beams back.

 

“Obviously, since I picked him.” Marci says easily. She tilts her head a little at Foggy and crooks a delicate finger. “No need to be shy, honey. Come say hi. I feel like I haven’t seen you in _ages.”_ Or ever.

Oh, god. Foggy shuffles forward a little more, not quite in reach in case Matt tries to punch him when he finds out.

 

“Hi, Marci.” He says, smiling with painful awkwardness. Marci tuts at him.

“Aw, so cold, honey. I’m hurt.” She pouts. “Come on, give your lovely fiancée a kiss hello, _Foggy Bear.”_ She’s smiling, but it’s hard and a little menacing.

 

Foggy swallows.

 

“Uh. Okay.” He has no idea what’s going on. There’s no way Marci _actually_ fell in love with him while she was in a coma, is there? No, judging by her smile she knows something’s up. She might not know the whole story—Foggy still has trouble understanding it himself—but she knows he’s not her fiancé. She’s _enjoying_ this.

 

Foggy gathers all of his courage and goes over to the bed, leaning in carefully. He’s planning for a kiss on the cheek, or maybe a chaste peck. Nothing damning that Matt will realize immediately that they’ve never done before.

 

Marci obviously does not agree with this plan. As soon as he’s within reach, she yanks him down by the shirt collar and smashes their lips together. Foggy makes a startled sound, freezing.

 

Marci is a seriously aggressive kisser. She’s all teeth and sharp nips and quick tongue. Foggy remains too stunned to respond for a moment, but then Marci tugs meaningfully on his hair and Foggy decides he might as well enjoy the ride to hell.

 

After a moment, Marci makes a sound that is more than a little pleased. She pulls him closer, and Foggy lets her, forgetting for a moment where he is. He’s wanted this, used to want it more than anything, and there’s no denying that Marci’s dazzling. A hurricane.

 

She’s not the one Foggy wants.

 

“Hmm.” Marci purrs when Foggy pulls away. “Lovely. I forgot what a wonderful kisser you are.” She sounds genuinely approving and a little surprised. Foggy can’t help but grin a little smugly, because Marci seems like the type who has had a _lot_ of experience with kissing. “How about another?”

 

“Um.” Foggy says, glancing towards Matt unsurely. “That might make Matt a little uncomfortable. PDA, you know?”

 

In fact, Foggy has no idea if it would make Matt a little uncomfortable. Matt’s expression is completely blank, impossible to read.

 

“Matt doesn’t mind.” Marci assures him silkily. “Do you, Matt?” She asks pointedly. Matt says nothing for a moment, face still unreadable, and then he smiles placidly.

 

“Why would I mind?” He asks lightly, and Marci grins.

 

“See?” Marci says to Foggy, snagging a hand in his shirt again. “Come on, Foggy Bear. One more won’t hurt. Don’t you want to kiss me?”

 

“Yes?” Foggy tries to say confidently. Marci’s smile is dangerous when she pulls him back in. Even harder this time, and Marci makes several appreciative little moans and gives him another quick kiss before he pulls away, wet and smacking loud in the room.

 

“Just lovely.” She says again, looking satisfied. “You’re right, Matt. Very good choice.” Matt hums reflectively.  

 

“Of course, I doubt you agreed to marry him based solely on his kissing skills.” He speculates calmly, and Marci laughs.

 

“Well, other _skills_ certainly factored into it.” She agrees suggestively, running a proprietary hand down Foggy’s chest. Foggy straightens and steps away, alarmed. Marci laughs again, definitely at him this time. “Oh, you _are_ a sweetheart.” Foggy swallows. “Adorable. Don’t you think so, Matt?”

 

“He’s very nice.” Matt offers neutrally, and Foggy deflates a little. _Nice._ Not exactly passionate. Not _adorable._

Marci smirks at Matt, clearly amused by something.

 

“I’ve always thought so.” She agrees. “Did he tell you how we met?” She gives Foggy a curious glance as she says it, obviously wondering how far he’s gone with the lie. He shakes his head silently, and her grins widens. “Oh, it’s a real treat.”

 

Foggy winces at the look of anticipation on her face. Marci is _terrifying,_ he realizes. Beautiful, but terrifying. She’s loving every minute of this, torturing him before she strikes the killing blow. She’s going to have fun with this.

 

“I’d love to hear it.” Matt tells her pleasantly, and Marci smirks at him.

 

“We cross the same street every day on the way to work.” Marci starts, and Foggy blinks at her, stunned. He never said anything about that—there was no chance to. The fact that Marci’s adding that detail means she _did_ notice him on the crosswalk. Maybe she wasn’t impressed, but she remembers him. “Foggy always turned such a pretty red when he saw me. Such a cutie.” Yup, she definitely noticed him. Marci actually winks at him, and Foggy realizes with a jolt that if he’d asked her on a date, Marci might actually have said _yes_.

 

“And he asked you out?” Matt guesses. Marci shakes her head, laughing.

 

“Poor lamb was too shy. I cornered him one day and gave him a kiss. Just like this.” She snags Foggy again—damn, she’s got a reach, he thought he was out of range—and pulls him down for another kiss. It must be making Matt uncomfortable, no matter what he says, but Marci doesn’t seem to care, taking her time. Foggy can’t quite make himself kiss back as enthusiastically as he did before, because he hates the idea of making Matt uncomfortable.

 

“That sounds like you.” Matt says wryly when she lets Foggy go again with another wet smack. “And _then_ he asked you out?”

 

“After a few more minutes of convincing. He was quite _eager_ after that.” Marci elaborates, and Foggy blanches. What the hell? She’s making him sound like a total tart! Matt will think Foggy’s got loose morals! “And he’s been trailing after me like a duckling ever since. Isn’t that right, Foggy Bear?” She asks, significantly. Foggy grits his teeth, but replies dutifully,

 

“Yes.”

 

“Love at first sight, was it?” Matt asks casually. Foggy winces. No. He thought it was, but it wasn’t. He’d thought he’d loved Marci the moment he saw her, but he actually _did_ love Matt the moment he saw _him_. It just took him too long to realize it.

 

“Apparently. Foggy Bear is such a romantic.” Marci sighs dramatically. “I can’t wait to see what he’ll do for our honeymoon.”

 

Which, no.

 

“Well, that won’t be for a while.” Matt points out practically. “After all, you’ve got to recover. Get your strength back.”

 

“Oh, no.” Marci argues cheerfully. “Sooner is better. I’d hate to wait. Foggy will carry me down the aisle so I won’t get tired. Such a gentleman.”

 

No, nope, not happening. Matt smiles, a little oddly. A little too wide.

 

“How kind of him.” He murmurs, like Foggy’s the one who offered. Foggy shakes his head at Marci, desperate. She ignores him.

 

“I’ll ask you to be my maid of honor, of course.” She promises Matt. “You can stand right next to me at the altar.” She promises sweetly. “Or would you rather be _Foggy’s_ best man? You could stand next to him instead." She gasps and claps her hands delightedly. "Oh, and we'll need to buy him a ring. Something pretty and bright. What do you think, Matt? Gold or silver?"  

 

Matt shudders, closing his eyes tightly for a moment.

 

“Please stop.” He whispers, and his voice cracks on the words.

 

“I’m just sharing the joy.” Marci says innocently, and there is something wrong here, Foggy knows it. “I’m so excited. Foggy will be _such_ a wonderful husband. He’s so good at everything else.”

 

Matt shudders again.

 

“I get it, Marci. You don’t have to keep saying it. I get it.” He looks tense and a little sick, not at all sedate and smiling like before. He’s getting more upset the more Marci’s talking. Marci’s smile is a little predatory.

 

“So tell me you’re happy for me.” She requests slyly, and it sounds like a dare. “Go ahead. You’re so fond of Foggy, I’m sure you’re thrilled about having him as a brother-in-law.” She sits up a little, eyes intent on her brother. “Go on. Tell Foggy how _happy_ you’ll be to have him as a _brother-in-law_.”

 

And how far is Foggy going to take this lie? There’s no way Marci’s going to let it go too far, but a little part of him is panicking anyway. What if Marci _does_ let it go too far? What if Foggy doesn’t say anything? What if he gets up to the altar, and he’s standing next to Matt—right _there,_ so close, he could reach out and _touch_ him—but putting a ring on _Marci’s_ finger? What if Foggy is a coward?

 

He doesn’t want Matt as a brother-in-law. He just wants Matt.

 

“I…” Matt stops, shakes his head. He’s got his eyes squeezed shut again, and his hands are clenched at his side. Foggy glances between them, confused and a little angry on Matt’s behalf. Something’s definitely wrong. Marci’s too smug, and everything she says makes Matt more and more miserable.

 

“Say you want Foggy as a brother-in-law.” Matt shakes his head again, and he looks like he's about to cry _._  Marci leans forward, expression fierce. “ _Say it, Matt.”_

“I’m not marrying Marci.” Foggy says, the words too loud, echoing in the hospital room. Marci blinks at him, looking honestly startled, and Matt’s eyes go wide, lips parting softly.

 

“What?” Matt whispers, and he sounds absolutely stunned, lost and small. Foggy hurries on, because if he doesn’t say this now he never will.

 

“I was never going to marry Marci. There was a mistake, someone heard me say something stupid to myself when Marci got brought in and it all got out of hand.” He swallows, looking at Matt desperately. “I was going to tell the truth. I was going to fess up right at the beginning, but then you walked in, and I…” He stops for a moment, gathers his courage. “And I really _liked_ you, and I wanted you to like me too. I was scared that if you knew…” God, he sounds pathetic.

 

“Well.” Marci says faintly, looking back and forth between them. “I have to say, I wasn’t expecting _you_ to break first.” She looks mildly impressed when she looks at Foggy. “Bravo, Foggy Bear.”

 

“You’re not marrying Marci?” Matt asks him, voice hoarse. Foggy shakes his head.

 

“I never even talked to her before the accident. We _did_ see each other on the crosswalk, and I _did_ want to ask her out, but I was never brave enough.” He takes a shaky breath, squaring his shoulders and refusing to look away from Matt. “And I’m glad I didn’t. You’re right. Marci and I aren’t right for each other at all—no offense.” He says as an aside to Marci, and she grins, amused.

 

“Oh, I completely agree.” She agrees offhandedly. “You’d be fun to play with, but not for keeps.” Foggy’s not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult. “You’re not _my_ type. Right, Matt?”

 

Matt looks frozen. Foggy’s a little worried he might have stopped breathing. Was the shock too much? When is he going to snap out of it and finally punch Foggy? Should Foggy run?

 

“You’re _not_ marrying Marci?” Matt repeats softly, and Foggy shakes his head.

 

“No.” He says simply. Matt swallows hard.

 

“And you don’t think you’re right for each other?” He asks, hesitant. Foggy shakes his head again, feeling tears prick at his eyes.

 

“Not even a little.” He promises. “You’re… you’re right. I don’t want the cheerleader. I want the dork who speaks Klingon.” He takes a deep breath, smiles tremulously. “BangwI' SoH, Matt.”

 

Matt lets out something that’s halfway between a laugh and a sob.

 

“BangwI' SoH.” He says, taking a step forward, then another, until he’s at the end of the bed. Foggy meets him halfway. “I love you too.”

 

He holds out a hand, tentative and delicate. It’s shaking. Foggy ignores it and tackles him. Matt laughs, surprised but delighted, and hugs him back just as fiercely, pressing a quick kiss to his temple.

 

“God, you two are disgusting.” Marci drawls, and Foggy turns his head to look at her. Matt’s arms tighten around his waist like he’s afraid Foggy’s going to pull away, and Foggy strokes his hair comfortingly and kisses his temple the way Matt kissed his. “I can’t believe you stole my fiancé, Matt. Tacky.”

 

“I can’t believe you just spent the last twenty minutes pretending he _was_ your fiancé just to torment me.” Matt shoots back, and Marci laughs.

 

“Don't be such a baby. It was for your own good. You’d have led him up the aisle yourself if I didn’t step in, never said a word. Ridiculously noble.” She says it scornfully, but she’s also smiling and it’s probably the warmest one Foggy’s seen since she woke up.

 

“You could have been nicer about it.” Matt scolds her, and Marci snorts.

 

“When have I _ever_ been ‘nice’, Matt?” She says the word like it’s entirely offensive. Matt nods the point.

 

“Thank you.” He tells her earnestly, and Marci rolls her eyes.

 

“You’re my brother.” She says simply, like this explains everything. Foggy supposes it does. “But right now, you’re also making me sick with your sugary displays of affection, and I’m pretty sure I could cut the sexual tension with a knife.” She grimaces. “So go home, screw each other’s brains out, and come back when you’re ready to worship me the way I deserve.”

 

“Uh.” Foggy responds intelligently, eyes wide. Matt doesn’t even hesitate.

 

“Good idea.” He agrees cheerfully, already tugging Foggy towards the door. “Come on Foggy, lead me home.” Foggy obediently offers his arm, and Matt completely ignores it and wraps an arm about his waist instead.

 

“Absolutely. Your place or mine?” Matt hums thoughtfully.

 

“Both.” He says, grinning at Foggy. “We can take turns.”

 

Uh.

 

“Okay.” Foggy says, voice a little too high.  Marci groans.

 

“That is more than I ever needed to know. Get out before you say something else that’s going to give me nightmares.” Matts nods happily, and Foggy waves at Marci. She smiles sweetly at him. “Oh, and Foggy Bear?” He nods. “If you break his heart, I _will_ rip your balls off and use them as paperweights.”

 

“Yup. Okay. Absolutely. No heart-breaking.” Foggy agrees, eyes wide. Marci sounds entirely serious. “Never.” And he thinks he probably sounds a little too love-struck, but it seems to please Marci.

 

“Good boy.” She coos. “Off you go.” She waves them out of the room, and Foggy calls out a hasty goodbye when Matt steers him out like he doesn’t need Foggy to lead him at all.

 

“I think your place is closer.” Matt mentions casually as they step into the elevator. “Just something to consider.” He pauses. “What are your sheets made of?” Foggy blinks, a little thrown off by the non sequitur.

 

“Uh, silk.” He replies. “I know it’s a little extravagant, but I like the way it feels.” Matt smiles and presses another kiss to his forehead, looking entirely besotted.

 

“Silk.” He sighs happily. “You really _are_ perfect.”

 

* * *

 

Matt actually doesn’t push Foggy against the wall of his apartment hallway. He _does_ push Foggy against the wall of the elevator, and then the wall of the lobby, and then the wall of the hospital building while they’re waiting for the taxi.

 

He also pushes Foggy against the door in the _taxi_ , until the driver clears his throat rather loudly and tells them that he’s not a motel, gentleman. Matt moves away a little, but keeps stealing little kisses the whole way home. The taxi driver grumbles, but he’s got a twinkle in his eye when he tells them to get the hell out of his cab.

 

Matt pushes him against the wall of _another_ elevator when they’re riding up to Foggy’s apartment, and also against the door of Foggy’s apartment when they finally stumble inside.

 

“You’re kind of pushy.” He tells Matt when Matt pushes him down on the mattress too. Matt hums, kissing his throat.

 

“Problem?” He asks absently, and Foggy laughs.

 

“So very much no.” He assures Matt, and Matt grins and goes to unbutton his shirt. And hell yes, Foggy was right about the licking, Jesus. He figures he might as well see how much of his dream was true and starts kissing his way down Matt’s stomach.

 

Matt lets him lick and suck for a minute or two, making very happy noises, but then he tugs Foggy’s hair until he pulls off and looks up curiously.

 

“Okay?” Foggy asks, a little self-conscious. It’s been a while since he’s done this. He’s pretty sure his technique is solid though—it’s like riding a bicycle, right?

 

“Wonderful.” Matt promises him. “Absolutely going to come back to this later. But right now I would really like…” He trails a finger deliberately up Foggy’s thigh. “Is _that_ okay?”

 

“Uh-huh.” Foggy says, a little breathlessly because Matt’s finger is _lingering_ and Foggy’s not entirely sure he’ll survive anything else. Matt beams at him.

 

“Perfect.” He breathes, smiling brilliantly, and yup, Foggy’s definitely not going to survive this. It’s a pretty good way to go though.

 

“Oh wow, I’m prophetic.” Foggy mutters when Matt goes just a bit too fast with his fingers and it aches just a little when he presses inside. “Remind me to dream about lottery numbers tonight.”

 

“What?” Matt asks, amused, and Foggy is about to explain when Matt moves a little, and Foggy cuts himself off with a hiss instead. Matt’s eyes widen. “Oh god, sorry. Hold on, I can…” He gestures with his fingers and pulls out just a little, and Foggy puts his hands on the small of Matt’s back and presses him back deeper again.

 

“Don’t you fucking dare, Murdock.” He growls. “Keep going. I like it. I want to be able to feel it in the morning.”

 

“Oh.” Matt’s eyes are even wider at this news. “That’s…okay.” He thrusts his hips a little, gently, and Foggy moans. It barely hurts at all anymore, and any pain is so, so worth it.

 

“Come on, harder.” He urges. “I told you, I want to _feel_ it in the morning.” He runs a hand along Matt’s back encouragingly. “I know you can go harder.”

 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Matt says, unsure, and Foggy shakes his head, moving his hand up to stroke Matt’s hair.

 

“You’re not going to hurt me.” He promises, angling his hips down. It’s not a lie—the pain’s already fading and it feels much too good even when Matt’s still. “Matt, come on. You want harder too, right?”

 

“Yes.” Matt whispers, kissing him tenderly. “Tell me to stop if it gets to be too much, okay? We can go back, make you a little more ready.”

 

Yeah, no way in hell. Foggy loves Matt’s fingers, really he does, but he is _not_ going back to them when he can have _this_ instead.

 

“Okay.” He agrees quickly. “Now _go.”_ He shifts, grinding down impatiently, and Matt nods and starts moving again.

 

He’s still too _slow,_ he’s being too _careful,_ and Foggy loves how gentle Matt is with him but gentle can come later, when Foggy’s not quite as desperate. He thinks back to his dream. Everything else has pretty much come true, so it’s worth a shot.

 

“Matt, come on _, Matt.”_ He says, putting as much adoration as he can into the name. “You can go harder than this, I know you can. Please, Matt?”

 

Foggy’s subconscious is apparently a goddamned genius, because Matt gasps and thrusts a little deeper immediately, like it’s just instinct to do what Foggy wants when Foggy says his name. Maybe it is.

 

 _That_ could be useful.

 

“That’s good, Matt.” He murmurs, kissing Matt’s throat. “A little faster now, just a little. Come on, Matt. Just a little faster. A little harder.” He kisses Matt again, just a little lower, lingering. “A little more. _Matty.”_

 

Matt shudders and goes a little faster, a little harder, a little _more._ Foggy grins.

 

Oh, yeah. Jackpot.

 

Foggy talks Matt through the whole thing, saying his name as often as he can, everywhere he can. Against Matt’s shoulder, his throat, his mouth, into his ear. Matt’s favorite seems to when Foggy leans down a little to murmur it against his chest, right over his heart, and if Foggy follows it with a gentle kiss against the skin, Matt will do pretty much _anything._ Faster, slower, harder, gentler. Anything.

 

Foggy promises to use his power for good instead of evil.

 

“No, stay inside. Just for a little longer, alright?” Foggy begs, when Matt’s soft and starting to move away. He doesn't want to lose the warmth just yet, the comforting stretch of Matt inside him. Matt hesitates. “ _Matt_.” It really does work like a charm. Matt immediately settles down, obedient, turning them carefully onto their sides so that there’s less weight on Foggy.

 

He stays there for as long as Foggy wants, mouthing gently at his shoulder and shifting his hips just a little every once in a while so that Foggy _feels_ it.

 

“We should probably take Marci to Giorgio when she gets out.” Matt murmurs thoughtfully. “As a thank you.”

 

“Every week for the rest of our lives.” Foggy agrees easily, and Matt smiles. Foggy can feel it against his skin.

 

“You planning on being there for the rest of our lives, then?” He asks, voice teasing but hiding a deeper question underneath. Foggy nods, toying absently with the soft hairs at the nape of Matt's neck.

 

“You’re pretty much stuck with me.” Foggy tells him cheerfully, and Matt squeezes his hip gently. 

 

“Good.” He murmurs back, sounding rather delightfully smitten. It’s quiet for a time before Matt clears his throat and speaks again. “So. You're in a good mood, right?" Foggy sighs blissfully.

 

"I, Mr. Murdock, am in heaven." He shifts a little, meaningfully, and shivers at the way Matt feels inside him, still sensitive and slick. "Why?" 

 

"I really want to say this when you're in a good mood." Matt admits, and he sounds nervous. Foggy hums encouragingly and strokes Matt's back. Matt takes a deep breath. "Okay. So. You know how you were hiding something huge for months, ever since we met?” He starts cautiously, and Foggy stiffens.

 

“I really am sorry about that.” He tells Mat earnestly. “God, I feel so awful.”

 

“No, no.” Matt assures him quickly. “I totally understand. Sometimes you keep secrets from people, and even though you feel really awful about it it’s hard to tell them the truth because you’re scared what they’ll think. So you don’t tell them, and you just feel worse and worse and you know you’ll need to tell them eventually, but you’re waiting for the right moment and you can never seem to find it, even though you really _want_ to find that moment and are in no way enjoying the whole secret-keeping process in any way.” He says it all quickly, in one breath. He kisses Foggy’s shoulder gently. “You know?”

 

“Uh, yeah. Obviously.” Foggy points out dryly. “Why?”

 

“So, you sort of...owe me a secret like that, right? Like, hypothetically, if I had one and I told you, we’d be even?” Foggy narrows his eyes, pulling away a little to look down at Matt. Matt’s looking entirely terrified, smiling nervously up at him. Foggy pinches the back of Matt's neck. Hard.

 

“What did you do, Matt?” He asks lowly. “Am I going to need to be _your_ one phone call?”

 

“No!” Matt assures him, and then hesitates, frowning. “Well. Probably not. Maybe. But probably not.” He doesn’t look entirely sure about this.

 

“Matt. Start talking.” Foggy commands. Matt kisses his shoulder again, like this will make it okay. Damn him, it does make Foggy relax a little.

 

“Now, I want to remind you that I forgave you right away. I wasn’t even mad, because I love you that much.” Matt says with a certain smitten tone that seems a bit too deliberate for Foggy's liking. “And you know I love you, right?” And he rolls his hips a little, and Foggy shudders and pushes back against him without even thinking about it.

 

“Yeah, of course.” Foggy says, because if he’s sure about anything he’s sure about that. “I love you too.”

 

“Right. We love each other.” Matt agrees, looking relieved. He smiles again, still a little anxious. “And that means we forgive each other.” Foggy blinks down at him, alarmed.

 

“Okay, you’re seriously freaking me out. What’s up?” Matt shifts again, and Foggy knows it’s on purpose this time, but he still presses into it before he can stop himself, playing right into Matt’s hands.

 

“You… you've heard the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, right?” Matt asks hesitantly. Foggy frowns, because he honestly wasn’t expecting that.

 

“Yeah, sure. Everyone has. Why?” A thought strikes him. “Matt, do you _know_ him? Is that what you’re talking about?”

 

“Would that be bad?” Matt asks quietly, biting his lip and looking scared. Foggy thinks for a moment, and then shakes his head slowly.

 

“No, it would be okay. I mean, I’ve heard some stories, but he doesn’t seem like a bad guy. He’s trying to help people.” Matt sighs in relief.

 

“Oh, thank god.” He mutters shakily, and he looks so grateful that it rings all sorts of alarm bells in Foggy’s mind. “So, you might like him a little? Maybe?” He asks, a hesitant hope in his voice.

 

Foggy takes a moment to consider the situation.

 

Matt has a secret. Matt’s terrified about how Foggy is going to react. Matt is mumbling about knowing superheroes, but being very vague regarding the details. Matt is, when Foggy thinks about, pretty damn close in height and weight to a _certain_ superhero that Foggy’s seen in the newspapers.

 

Huh.

 

Foggy rocks forward against Matt again, gentle, and kisses his forehead absently. 

 

“Honestly? I think he’s hot as all hell.” He says casually, and Matt blinks up at him, eyes wide. “I mean, seriously, red leather? Yum.” He makes an appreciative sound. “Kind of want to peel that suit off of him with my teeth.”

 

Matt shudders and his hips jump forward. Foggy grins. This should be fun.

 

“And I bet he’s a devil in bed, too. Maybe a little rough, lots of love bites and he’d feel amazing inside of me.”

 

Matt nods quickly and eagerly, lips brushing against Foggy’s shoulder. Right against one of the love bites he gave earlier tonight. Foggy feels the thickening of Matt inside of him as he begins to harden again, and he can’t help but rock forward once more against Matt.

 

“I sort of have a thing for superheroes, you know.” He admits, low like he’s telling a secret. “Try not to get too jealous.”

 

“God, I love you.” Matt murmurs reverently, and the look on his face is so desperately devoted that it makes Foggy’s breath catch. “The moment I met you, I knew. You were remarkable, and you were _mine."_ He gives Foggy a fierce smile and a fiercer kiss, snapping his hips up to get a little deeper.

 

Foggy whimpers at the sudden burst of sensation, still a little tender and feeling it more now that Matt’s moving. Too much, it's too much. Matt shushes him gently and kisses him again, licking into Foggy’s mouth and keeping him distracted and happy until Foggy gets used to the feeling of Matt hard inside him again.

 

“Yeah?” Foggy asks breathlessly once he’s relaxed, starting to move a little more confidently against Matt and finding his rhythm.

 

“Yeah.” Matt agrees, pressing another quick kiss to Foggy’s lips. When he pulls away, Matt hums thoughtfully. “I think it was the Klingon.” He muses. “Very sexy.” Foggy rolls his eyes.

 

“Dork.” He mutters fondly, rubbing Matt’s back. Matt leans into it with a contented sound, resting his forehead against Foggy’s shoulder. “Hey, Matt?”

 

“Mm-hmm?” Matt smiles lazily up at him. Foggy grins at him.

 

“ParmaqqaywI' SoH." He whispers. "BangwI' SoH.”  _You are my lover, and you are my beloved._ Matt shivers and presses closer with a blissful little sigh.

 

“I _love_ it when you talk nerdy to me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, man. I only know one phrase in Klingon, and it's: "Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam." (Or: "Today is a good day to die.") So, I had to double check most of these, and I'm probably still wrong. Sorry! 
> 
> While You Were Sleeping is a fun movie, by the by, if you're looking for a goofy romantic comedy.


End file.
